


Relapse

by PlasmaBooks



Category: Doki Doki Literature Club! (Visual Novel)
Genre: F/F, this is actually more sad than it is happy and i am sorry, tw for self harm, yuri relapses basically
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-15
Updated: 2019-03-15
Packaged: 2019-11-18 12:48:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,071
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18121037
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PlasmaBooks/pseuds/PlasmaBooks
Summary: Yuri has a lot of fears -- social interaction, saying the wrong thing, being unlovable… but the biggest one out of them all has to be relapse.





	Relapse

**Warning: This story contains a massive TW for self harm, along with the feeling of relapse after so long of being clean from said self harm. Please read with caution, as the entire story revolves around these two ideas.**

 

The moment the knife comes across her skin, a hot flash of pain shoots up her arm.

 

She immediately stills the blade, staring at the wound in horror as blood bubbles up over the top. 

 

It… hurt. 

 

It hasn’t hurt since… since… 

 

Yuri snaps out of her trance and immediately clasps her free hand over the cut. She whirls around to face the sink and drops the knife on the counter. 

 

This is all wrong. 

 

Her mind is racing.

 

This is all so wrong. 

 

It hurt. Oh, it  _ hurt, _ it wasn’t supposed to hurt!

 

She’s panicking. 

 

She turns on the faucet, and sees blood stain the brass handle.

 

Her stomach lurches. 

 

She washes her hand off first, just to avoid getting stains on anything else.

 

Then she reaches to her right in search of a washcloth, her heart leaping to her throat as she only sees white ones. 

 

It’ll stain. 

 

But she has no other choice. 

 

Running the washcloth under the sink, Yuri bites her lip and presses the wet cloth to the cut. 

 

It  _ stings.  _

 

It stings so bad, it draws a cry out of her throat. 

 

She presses the washcloth down harder and bites her lip, nearly doubling over, her two elbows resting on the counter below her. 

 

Memories of times when the process didn’t hurt are flooding her mind, as if it’s the knife doing it all, trying to call her back to it. 

 

As if accepting defeat, she lowers her head down to the counter and lets a quiet sob spill out of her throat. 

 

She  _ failed.  _

 

After two months, two entire  _ fucking  _ months, she failed. 

 

She cut again. 

 

And it’s the lowest goddamn feeling in the world. 

 

She tosses the washcloth into the sink and turns the water off. 

 

From there, her brain is working on autopilot, guiding her out of the bathroom and down the hall. 

 

She goes down the stairs, her sleeves rolled up for anyone to see, but nobody does. 

 

She marches right into the living room, right in front of Natsuki.

 

She holds her arm out, showing the new wound, too numb to care for the reaction, or really anything anymore. 

 

Natsuki notices immediately; the sight of blood still dribbling out of the fresh cut sends her right into a state of panic. 

 

“Yuri-!” She screeches out, barely able to shut herself up in time to avoid saying anything else. “You…”

 

It’s bad. 

 

It’s  _ so  _ bad. 

 

She doesn’t know if Yuri can tell through the veil that always comes over her eyes when she does these things, but the cut is  _ way  _ too deep.

 

It’s deeper than the others. 

 

Natsuki yanks ahold of the girl’s arm, taking a better look. 

 

“Oh god, Yuri…” she whimpers out, forcing herself to take a deep breath. “Alright. Come on.”    
  
Up the stairs they go again, with Natsuki practically dragging the dejected Yuri behind her. 

 

Into the bathroom they go again, and Yuri begins to feel insanely dizzy. 

 

Natsuki spots the knife as soon as she looks, and suddenly grabs the handle, raising the blade. 

 

She drops it in the trash. 

 

Yuri’s eyes follow the silver of the knife as it falls, and she stares at the trash can after the blade disappears inside.

 

A pang of yearning strikes her heart as she sees the knife tossed away. 

 

The click of a med kit being opening stirs her attention, and she looks away from the trash bin to see Natsuki dragging out various medical supplies. 

 

Oh, she’s been here before. 

 

She’s been  _ right  _ here, in a bathroom with a panicky Natsuki, watching her gather up all these tools and liquids and bandages because her lover took one step closer to a fatal mistake. 

 

She watches the repetition occur through blank, lightless eyes.

 

The only thing that shocks her back to life is the sudden sting - not from the return of a cut, but the feeling of peroxide being splashed on the wound. 

 

It stings even worse than the water, seeping deep into the laceration, flicking its fiery tongue over every inch. 

 

Yuri doubles over again, and whimpers. 

 

But it’s a sign of life. 

 

“It has to be cleaned, I’m sorry.” Natsuki mutters, her voice sounding too devoid of emotion to be sincere. 

 

But it’s a sign of life. 

 

After almost two horrible minutes, the peroxide stops burning, and Yuri stops doubling. She stands straight and tenses; the itch is roaring. 

 

Next come the bandages; Yuri watches them slither over her arm like a snake, covering up the wrong laying stationed on her skin. 

 

_ It’s all your fault.  _

 

The cleanup is done. 

 

_ It’s all your fault.  _

 

“I’m sorry.” 

 

_ She’s going to leave you for this. _

 

“I couldn’t fight it.”

 

_ You couldn’t fight it.  _

 

_ You’re so stupid.  _

 

“I couldn’t fight it.” 

 

It was a relapse.

 

Whether or not it was her fault, she can’t tell.

 

Natsuki isn't sure what their next move is supposed to be. 

 

All she knows is that, more than ever, she needs to be there for Yuri. 

 

Arms go around the taller girl’s waist, pulling her into a hug. 

 

It's warm. It's comforting. 

 

And it's just the push Yuri needed. 

 

Tears spill past the brim, and she doubles again, clutching onto the shorter girl as if her life depends on it.

 

“Don’t leave me.” 

 

The plead, though barely over a whisper, is the most desperate thing Natsuki has ever heard, and it breaks her heart. 

 

Yuri’s grip on her tightens; she’s pulled closer, firmer, as if she were a leaf, to be blown away by the wind. 

 

“Oh,  _ god,  _ don’t leave me.” 

 

She’s crying. 

 

She’s crying, and she can’t stop. 

 

“I won’t.” Natsuki says back, reaching her arms up, draping them on the taller girl’s shoulders. “I wouldn’t dream of it. We can get past this together, okay? It isn’t your fault.” 

The statement contradicts what her brain is telling her, but Natsuki’s voice overpowers all.

 

A rush of relief washes over her and she falls down, down, down. 

 

She’s on her knees on the floor, with Natsuki slowly kneeling down with her.

 

The wails that fill the house mean a lot of things -- fear, pain, joy…

 

She’s wounded.

 

But it’s nothing time can’t fix.

**Author's Note:**

> I had to write this the moment I got the idea. I hope you enjoyed!
> 
> Comments > kudos > bookmarks > anything else


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